


Learning to Want

by EllieL



Category: Gone With the Wind - All Media Types, Gone With the Wind - Margaret Mitchell
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Honeymoon, Hurt/Comfort, POV Alternating, Porn with Feelings, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:57:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22992031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieL/pseuds/EllieL
Summary: Scarlett's previous marriages have left her completely unprepared for marriage to Rhett Butler. What if he took this into account, and their honeymoon went a little differently?
Relationships: Rhett Butler/Scarlett O'Hara
Comments: 58
Kudos: 209





	1. Scarlett

**Author's Note:**

> Writing is nearly complete, and this will be updating weekly through March until completed.  
> I haven't posted any GWTW fic in since 2006, so hopefully this lives up to current expectations.

She sat at the dressing table, ostensibly brushing out her hair before retiring to bed. 

_ Their _ bed.

In truth, her mind was wandering so far afield that the brush hung idly in her hands. She was now Mrs. Rhett Butler, with all that entailed. Including bed. She glanced at it behind her in the mirror, enormous in the small cabin, waiting. She shivered, and found she couldn’t stop.

He would expect her to sleep with him. Unable to be put off as she’d been able to, somewhat successfully, with her previous husbands. Not, unfortunately, successfully enough to prevent her from experiencing enough of marital relations to know that she did not enjoy them as her husbands seemed to do. She had not enjoyed them at all. And they’d been weak, meek men, nothing like Rhett, who was strong and more willful than she. He would not be dissuaded, she knew, and though he promised it would be  _ fun _ she knew it would be anything but.

So lost in her reverie was she that the warm, large hand closing on her shoulder made her jump like a scalded cat and drop the brush to the floor with a clatter.

“Scarlett?”

She stared down at her shaking hands until he caught her chin under his index finger and tilted her head up until he met her eyes in the mirror. His were dark but soft, brow slightly furrowed over them. 

“Are you all right? You’re trembling.”

Unable to find her voice, she could only nod jerkily, looking down at her hands again. All she could feel was the warm weight of his hand on her shoulder through the thin silk of her chemise and dressing gown.

His other hand dropped into her other shoulder, and he kneaded them gently. “You’ve been married twice before. You know I’m not going to hurt you.”

“It’s always hurt before.” Her whisper was so quiet that she could barely hear it herself, and it slipped out before she could help herself.

“It’s always hurt you?” His voice was silky soft in her ear, his hands still and somehow lighter on her shoulders.

Having already said far too much, she answered with only a solitary nod and a blush.

He was still and quiet beside her for a moment as her breath hitched, and she gasped as his arms wrapped around her and abruptly lifted her into his arms. In two steps, he’d crossed to the bed and settled down against the headboard with her in his lap. She sat, stiff and still shaking, until his hands gently encouraged her to rest her head on his shoulder, and began stroking up and down her back. Closing her eyes, she tried to gain control of her breathing, her senses. An already embarrassing situation was only becoming more embarrassing. If only he’d just get on with it, get it over with.

“It shouldn’t ever hurt, honey,” his voice was low and soothing in her ear, pleasant if only he were talking about something else. “I know what mothers tell their daughters, but it needn’t ever be something painful to be endured in exchange for the bearing of children.”

“That hurts, too,” she mumbled into his strong shoulder.

He laughed, actually had the nerve to laugh, his chest rumbling under her and his arms tightening around her in an embrace. Eventually, he caught her chin under his finger again, and tilted her head up so he could kiss her. 

When he broke away, he said gently, “There’s nothing I can do about the childbearing, other than doing my best to help prevent it, if that’s what you wish. But I can make sure relations aren’t painful for you. I want you to enjoy it as much as I do, to  _ want _ it as much as I do.” 

Though she knew she was flushing crimson with embarrassment, she finally met his eyes. But for all he could look dangerously piratical, they were soft and dark with desire, and there was nothing on his face that frightened her now. 

“Can we just get this over with? I won’t enjoy it, but if you can make it not painful...I’d appreciate it.” Sure she must be puce by now, she ducked her head back to his shoulder and took a steadying breath as his hands slid down to her hips.

He managed to cant his head and catch her lips, drawing her out of her protective ball a bit, teasing her lips with his tongue until she parted them, let him in. Let him carry her away momentarily in the sensation of kissing him, of feeling nothing else in the world but the man whose arms were pulling her close, stroking her back, gliding through her hair. One cupped the back of her head, holding her steady, but not holding her to him; the moment she broke away, gasping for air, he let her, watching her curiously.

“You enjoy that, don’t you? And you are…’fond’ of me, I believe it was?”

“I like kissing you,” she admitted quietly. Her eyes flicked up to his for a moment, then back away as she let herself be honest, as she always had been with him. “I’m fonder of you than either of my previous husbands.”

Laughter echoed around the small room again at that, and he pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “Oh, Scarlett. I hope I don’t die on you, I fear what you’d say about me after I’ve departed.”

“That depends on how quick and not-painful you manage to make this.” She batted her lashes at him and managed a faint smile.

“Would you be quite fond of me, perhaps even like me, if I manage to make this painless for you?”

She blinked. “But I do like you, Rhett. I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t  _ like _ you.”

For a few seconds he was very still, then swooped down to kiss her again deeply, tongue tangling and teasing with hers until she felt faint. Just as she was beginning to appreciate his strong arms around her, holding her up, the world spun, and she was on her back looking up at him. She struggled to catch her breath, but before she could fully recover, he was kissing her again, and it was like nothing she’d experienced before--her whole body felt ablaze but languid, completely without the terrible tension that had wracked her only minutes ago.

Only when he broke the kiss to reach down to the tie on her dressing gown did she gasp again, trying to take in enough air to say something, anything, to slow him, to make him kiss her again. But she managed only, “Rhett.”

He smiled at that, teeth flashing white in the low light. Heavens, the room was still lit, and he was pulling off her dressing gown! 

“Rhett, the lights….” It sounded weak, even to her.

“I want you to be able to see, my dear. And I want to see you.”

Her brow furrowed, even as he sat back and took her hands, urging her to sit up. “See what?”

“What I’m doing, and how you respond. It shouldn’t be some dark mystery,” he said as he pulled off her dressing gown. The chemise felt far too thin in the light.

Then he bunched up the hem of the chemise, and was pulling it up, too.

“Rhett!” She clutched futilely at the silk. It was up and over her head before she could do more than make a muffled protest. Instead, she was left scrambling to try and cover herself, but his hands caught hers, pulling them away, baring her to him. Though she closed her eyes, she could feel the crimson flush spreading across her cheeks and down to her chest. Which she knew he was staring at.

“You don’t need to blush. You’re beautiful.” His moustache tickled her ear as he whispered, then just lightly caught her earlobe in his teeth. She couldn’t control her shudder, but it didn’t entirely feel like fear, or embarrassment. 

Then his hand was on her shoulder, urging her to lie back. Opening her eyes, she sank back slowly, watching as he removed his own clothes. His chest was broad, his arms well-muscled, and he seemed well aware of his own strength as he sank down next to her.

She had expected him to climb atop her like her previous experiences, to take his pleasure now; she was ready for it, as ready as she could hope to be in such circumstances. Instead, he settled beside her, and began kissing her again. The nervousness that had blossomed with the removal of her clothing began to fade as his lips captured hers, sending her once again into a heady spiral of bliss.

It wasn’t until his hand began circling her breast—her bare breast!—that her eyes snapped open again. Her cry of surprise was captured by his kiss, but he allowed her to break away with a gasp when his thumb brushed across her nipple.

The brush of his thumb found an alternating rhythm with his kisses, leaving her breathless and settling her writhing on the sheets.

What was he doing to her, touching her like this?

Then his lips were gone and his hand was sliding away, and she nearly whimpered at the confusing loss. But then his moustache tickled her breast, his lips finding the nipple he’d been teasing. She tried to pull back in shock.

“Rhett! What are you doing? You can’t—!”

The grin on his face as he looked back up at her was positively wicked. “My dear, we are married and can do whatever we like. And I’d like to taste every inch of you.”

A shiver raced through her body at the intoxicating whiskey tone of his voice, at the insistent finger tracing circles on her soft belly. Then he bent his head and traced a lazy circle around her nipple with his tongue, eventually capturing it between his lips. He suckled gently, and it felt nothing like the babes she’d nursed; some foreign sensation jolted through the core of her, left her feeling even lighter-headed than his kisses.

“Rhett?” Her query this time was softer, almost a moan. His lips left her breast with a kiss before he looked up at her again, eyes dark. 

“Does that hurt?” His voice was little more than a whisper across now-damp skin, and she shivered. This time, it was most definitely not with fear.

She shook her head, but bit her lip. It did not hurt, not at all, but she was uncertain just what it did make her feel.

“This will probably be confusing and unexpected for you, Scarlett, but it should feel good. If anything I do hurts, tell me. I will stop. I will not hurt you. Understand?” 

His hands were drifting further down, over her abdomen, towards her hips. It was making it difficult to think. She could only nod. 

There was a flash of his grin before his lips found her body again, and her eyes snapped shut. He might want to see her, but she had no desire to watch him. Instead, all she could feel were his lips and hands on her, moustache and lips tickling down her torso and strong hands gliding easily over her thighs. It made no sense to her--why was he touching her so much, why did she feel so intoxicated by it?

Abruptly his lips were gone from her stomach, her eyes snapped open, and he was between her legs. Though not as either husband had ever been before. No, he was low on the bed, his head between her knees, hands opening her thighs to him, and even as she couldn’t help but stare down at him he was staring down at her, between her legs. Despite her best attempts, she could not close them, could not keep him from looking at that most secret of places.

“Rhett!” She protested weakly, embarrassed again. This evening seemed to be one of perpetual mortification.

His dark eyes met hers for just a moment before he dipped his head and--good God, what was he doing! Was he  _ kissing _ her-- _ there? _ \--but he couldn't be--and why did it feel  _ so-- _

“Rhett!” Her voice was a bit more vehement then, but tinged with surprise and punctuated by something like a moan. Whatever he was doing seemed only to increase its intensity, as if deepening a kiss, drawing another moan from her before he pulled away from her, looking up at her with a smirk.

Why did that leave her suddenly hungering for more? No lady should want that, should want more of whatever  _ that _ had been.

But after taking in her expression, it was exactly what he gave to her. He seemed to be stoking a fire within her, one she didn’t understand nor could she control. Something was building, burning within her, and every kiss and lick and suckle from him only seemed to stoke it. She knew only that there must be some end to it, some release from it, and could no longer restrain her body and began to writhe against his ministrations, seeking. 

His chuckle seemed to vibrate through her whole body and her traitorous hips arched in search of more. He hummed his approval and she couldn’t contain the squeal that escaped her lips. It was apparently what her body wanted, and what he wanted, as he repeated the hum, varying in pitch and intensity as she warbled in response. 

She felt as if she might combust.

Then one of his fingers slid into her. Not far, not forcefully. But she still tensed, building feelings dampened, body going still. Though his lips kept moving, they were slower, gentler than they had been seconds before, and the invading digit was still, as if gauging her response. 

It did not hurt. Her mind was racing though, at the oddness of his touch, of his penetrating her that way. At how, as she took a breath and willed herself to relax, he gently began to move it in and out of her, slowly increasing depth and pace, a counterpoint to his mouth on her. It felt almost--maybe it felt  _ good _ . 

That fire within her seemed to be flaring again, brighter and hotter and she couldn’t contain it. When he hummed against her again, it rippled through her, burning white hot, searing her vision to nothingness and leaving her blinking and languid when she finally returned to awareness.

Rhett was resting his cheek against her thigh, looking up at her with an inscrutable gaze. His finger remained inside of her, still. He regarded her for a long moment, then began kissing his way back up her body, lingering at her breasts until she was breathless again. Only then did his hand begin to move against her again, thumb teasing the sensitive spot his mouth had worked before as the finger within her began to stroke.

Any questions she might have wanted to ask--and she had so many, if only it were proper to articulate any of them!--were preempted by his lips on hers. He tasted different now, and it dawned on her that it must be the taste of her on his lips.

She didn’t have long to consider that thought, though, before he pulled back from her, enough that he could look down at her face, which she was sure was flushed in embarrassment. Before she realized what he was doing, his finger was gone and something else was pushing into her, something bigger. When she realized she managed to look up at him with wide eyes; he was staring down at her, studying her, a curiously expressionless look on his own face.

The instant she closed her eyes and bit her lip, he paused in his slow, steady entry into her body. 

“Scarlett?” His voice was more of a growl than words, but she recognized her name, and opened her eyes again. He was the one trembling gently now, muscles corded and straining.

She understood what he was asking, knew he must have taken her involuntary reaction of expected pain as an actual pain response. It wasn’t, she realized; it felt foreign and slightly uncomfortable, but it did not  _ hurt  _ as it had in her previous experiences. At her sharp nod, he heaved a gasping breath he must have been holding as she deliberated, and began pushing further inside.

When he stopped again, he groaned her name and leaned down so his hands bracketed her head, then kissed her deeply. They were both panting when he broke the kiss and dropped his forehead to her shoulder, kissing her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone. It seemed as if he stayed there for a long time, certainly longer than the hasty couplings with Charles had lasted in their entirety. 

Then he began to move, incrementally at first, the barest shifting of his hips against hers. It was not unpleasant, and rather than feeling like she was being stabbed, her body seemed as if it had accommodated him in a way that had never previously happened. There was not even any discomfort as he started to move in earnest after she voiced no protest at the rocking of his hips into hers.

“Scarlett,” he groaned into her shoulder. Then he lifted his head to capture her lips again. The kiss captured her squeak of surprise as he grabbed her leg and pulled it up, tucking it around his thigh. It felt different; she was momentarily frightened at how easily he moved her around, at how open she suddenly felt. But this different feeling wasn’t bad--in fact, that feeling from before was starting to build again.

It was beyond her comprehension, these feelings so far beyond anything she had known existed. She didn’t know how he could stir these feelings in her. Had he known? Is this what he’d meant by  _ fun _ ? Her hands clenched in the sheets, then released, trying to grab that feeling, looking for something to pull it towards her. 

One of his hands caught hers, startling her into opening her eyes. He was staring down at her, and stilled, squeezed her hand before putting it on his sweaty shoulder. “You can touch me, Scarlett. Please.”

She traced her hand across his shoulder, fingers trailing down onto his shoulder blades as he groaned her name and began thrusting into her again. When she tightened her fingers into the muscles of his shoulders, he picked up the pace of his motions. As he moved, she felt that flame growing in her belly again, flushing her, leaving her breathless, enough that she was gasping herself, despite her best efforts to stay quiet as a lady should. She bit her lip, trying to stifle it, but he was having none of it, capturing her lips again. 

And she was left burning white hot again, seared away to nothing more than the feelings he had built within her. Their kiss broke as she threw her head back and cried out before she could help herself. It was all too much, completely overwhelming every muscle in her body, her back arching her up in to him.

It must have overwhelmed him too, as he stilled within her, cried out sharply “Scarlett!” and tucked his head into her shoulder. 

When she came to her senses, he was no longer above her. Rather, he’d rolled into his side and pulled her against him, arms around her, holding her tight and kissing her hairline. She was unsure about what had happened, unsure of what was expected of her now. Previously after relations, her husbands had crashed on top of her, then rolled away, leaving her in peace again. Rhett seemed to have no inclination to that.

Tentatively she reached one of her arms out from where trapped between them and wrapped it around him. He hummed in response, rumbling low against her cheek. One of his hands played with her hair, soothing her. She let him, let herself be calmed into slumber, vowing to make sense of the tumult of feelings tomorrow.


	2. Rhett

He had rarely spent the night with women, which made waking up in the watery early light with long hair tangled around him a novel surprise. Scarlett—his  _ wife _ !—had rolled over in her sleep and was now curled facing away from him, leaving her hair falling towards him, her warm back against his chest, her delightful bottom curving into his groin. 

Toying with a lock of her hair, he studied the slip of a woman in bed with him. She was no longer skin and bones as she’d been when she came to the jail a few years ago, but she was still far too thin, especially for a woman who’d had a baby in the meantime. And she’s been so terrified the night before, had clearly been completely mishandled by her previous husbands. 

One of those husbands was his fault. He could only hope that he could make that up to her now, and in the process she might realize deeper feelings for him. Hadn’t she coquettishly admitted that she  _ liked _ him even in the middle of her distress the night before? More was perhaps not out of the range of possibility; perhaps she could forget other fancies and think only of him.

He sighed at his own fancy and nestled closer into the object of his affection. For he knew he held more than mere fondness for her, knew from well before that night he’d insanely helped her flee Atlanta that he foolishly  _ loved _ her. It was not a sentiment he believed he could feel, or one he’d wanted to feel. Hell, he’d tried to remove the sentiment from his mind by a hard shoeless slog through a Virginia winter but it had done little good.

Yet he’d ended up with her in his bed. More than anything in his life he’d wanted her. And now she was his. 

His hand ghosted down from the long hair falling over her shoulder, over the ogee of her waist and hip. Now he was free to touch her, though he’d had to temper his desire. Both out of a fear of revealing to her the true depth of his feelings and out of concern at her previous experiences. He was still concerned about her previous experiences but encouraged by her response last night; she clearly hadn’t understood her own body’s reaction, but hadn’t been unresponsive, had come to her release with him.

Perhaps here, too, she could come to appreciate and want him, if only he could make her  _ like _ it enough. He wanted her to love it, love him.

Long fingers nearly spanned her waist as he slid his tanned hand over her soft, magnolia-white skin. She did not stir, breathing steady and deep. His hand roved up, cupping one breast and to his surprise she involuntarily moved in to his touch. Kneading lightly, he brushed his thumb across the soft nipple once, twice, feeling it firm under his finger as she gave a soft sigh in her sleep. 

His hand left her breast and she mewled quietly, the sound almost making him reconsider, given her apparent want. But he had other plans, hand traveling lower, until it reached the thicket of curls at the apex of her thighs. He combed his fingers through it, index finger sliding deeper, parting her. 

The moment he found that bundle of nerves she’d been so delightedly startled by last night, he knew it, as she startled awake with a panicked gasp. He caught her with the arm that had been trapped under her, wrapping it around her shoulders and holding her close.

She struggled against his embrace, though, breath coming rapidly and legs kicking, crying out. 

“Scarlett, darling, it’s all right.”

Though she stilled at his words, her entire body was still tense. “Rhett? What are you doing?”

Rather than answering her, he kissed the back of her neck, working his way up her neck and along her jaw. Only when he reached her ear and nipped lightly at the lobe did he whisper, “Wishing my wife a proper good morning.”

He could see her flush, but she didn’t move away. “It’s so improper. It’s morning! And your hand is—“

At her mention of it, he wiggled the hand that had fallen still against her, parting her lips once more, finding that bundle of nerves briefly before trailing down lower. There was no moisture there yet, and he wondered if that had been part of the problem for her before, with men too ignorant to know any better. His finger flicked back up, teasing her clit as his other arm drifted lower, off her shoulders, until her could capture a breast in his hand.

“It’s not improper, not now. Not if we both want it.” His thumb brushed over her nipple. “Do you want this, Scarlett?”

“I—-I don’t—“

Immediately both his hands stilled, and she whimpered quietly. “You don’t want me to touch you? Or you don’t know what you want?”

“Don’t know.” Her voice was so soft that if he hadn't been listening he would have missed her answer.

He stroked his thumb over the soft skin on the underside of her breast. “That’s all right, darling. I’ll help you figure out what you want.” 

Kissing her again, on the sensitive spot behind her ear, he heard her sigh. Though her mind might be struggling, her body was not, and she relaxed back against him once more.

“Nothing’s hurt you?”

She shook her head. “No. At first I thought—but it didn’t. I was just scared that it would.”

“You don’t have to be scared. I won’t hurt you.” 

He resumed the movement of his index finger between her legs, carefully circling her center, moving over and around her clit, dipping down to check her entrance, gathering the building moisture. 

“Rhett….” The pitch of her voice rose as his touch became firmer, faster. 

“Enjoy it, Scarlett.” He wanted to touch her like this every night and day of their honeymoon, make her come apart in his arms until she realized she enjoyed this, enjoyed him. It would be a sweet torture, as his own cock reminded him as it pressed firm against her lower back, so aware of the woman in front of him, the only woman he’d wanted like this for years. He would enjoy it.

And she did seem to be enjoying his touch, if the wetness between her legs and the panting of her breath was any indication. Curious, he stilled both hands, and she gave a gasping cry. Then he carefully tweaked her nipple between his thumb and knuckle.

“Do you like that?” He did it again, the peak sharper this time, heard her gasp.

“Oh--ye--yes.” She turned her face into the pillows, and he could barely hear her whispered, “But….”

“But? Is there something you like better, my darling? I’ll give you anything you like.” If she’d only admit to wanting it, he’d give her his touch, his fortune, his heart on a platter. His hand on her breast was still, cupping it gently.

She flushed a delightful shade of crimson, and mumbled into the pillows, “But I liked it better last night. When you...when you...kissed...there.”

He could not contain his growl of delight, could not keep his hips from grinding into her from behind, could not help wanting her in that moment, though he’d promised himself this morning would be about  _ her _ . Kissing up the column of her neck, he captured her earlobe briefly with his teeth before whispering, “You can have my kisses, anytime and anywhere on your body you’d like.”

Twisting himself, he rolled her under him, lips upon her even as she was still emitting a surprised squeak. That squeak quickly turned into a sigh of delight as his tongue swirled around her areola and across her nipple, feeling the flesh tighten. He also felt her arousal increasing on the fingers still between her legs.

He gave her other breast some attention then with a flick of his tongue released her and turned his attention between her legs. “Do you like this too, Scarlett?”

“Yes,” was barely a sigh as his thumb touched her clit.

“Did you like my mouth there, too?” He nipped at the soft underside of her breast. “Because I liked it very much.”

The crimson flush across her face, spreading down to her chest, was enough of an answer for him. But as he trailed kisses down across her stomach there was another sighed “yes.”

This was massive progress, and he would not deny either of their desires. Her legs opened easily for him this time, and he could feel the crackle of tension through her body as his tongue brushed across her clit, her hips arching into his mouth as it explored her folds for the second time, learning her contours and reactions. She was beautiful, and so passionate when she wasn’t too self-conscious to enjoy herself. 

His lips found that bundle of nerves he’d located the night before, taught her to enjoy. And she delighted in his ministrations this time, too, sighing and moaning and even, as he hummed his appreciation, gasped. He did it again, thrilling him nearly as much as it seemed to thrill her. Obviously unconsciously, roughly and abruptly, she shifted her hips up against him, seeking, until she realized what she was doing and stilled herself once more.

He moved his lips away, replaced them with his fingers. “You can move, Scarlett. You don’t have to lie back and bear things.”

Rather than answering in words, one of the hands that had been clenched tightly in the bedding found his shoulder again, as he had shown her last night. She kneaded, and he rewarded her by returning his lips to her, sending her into panting gasps and even a few warbling cries that went straight to his groin. But he continued his focus on her, sliding a finger into her once more even as his tongue continued teasing her clit, searching for just a moment before finding that spot inside her--and all it took was a crook of his finger. She was crying out, crying his  _ name _ , clutching at his shoulders and nearly decapitating him with her thighs. He couldn’t think of a more glorious way to go.

When he began trailing his lips back up her body, she stared down at him with glassy eyes, breathing hard. He had intended this to be for her, to let her realize this was something she should enjoy, but it was too enticing. He slid easily into her, and she warbled in response, until he caught her lips in a kiss that sent a shiver down his spine.

Stilling for a moment, he took the time, as he had the night before, to allow her to adjust to him, and to appreciate her. God, she was even more spectacular than he’d imagined, and he wished he could stay inside her like this forever. 

“Oh, Rhett.” Her voice was barely above a whisper; if his head hadn’t been tucked into the crook of her neck, he’d never have heard her.

He mustered all his strength to lift himself up and ask, “Do you like this too?”

She bit her lip and blushed again, but nodded once, looking so very young and innocent. He knew she wasn’t, in some ways, but she’d obviously not learned much about relations between men and women, or about her own body. He kissed his way along her jaw until reaching her ear.

“Good,” he purred into the shell of her ear. “I like being inside you. I want you to like it too.”

She flushed a gorgeous shade of crimson but gasped out a surely involuntary “yes” as he began to move within her sweet body. Her breathing grew into a trilling pant as he moved faster, thrust harder, doing everything he could to drive her towards a release with him inside her. He wanted it for her, wanted to feel it almost as badly for himself. 

It wasn’t difficult to achieve—her body was willing, responsive to his touch as his lips captured her nipple and his thumb found her clit. He’d never been with a woman who responded so easily to him, despite her societally-ingrained embarrassment at her own feelings and responses. When her arms came up to wrap around his shoulders, he was thrilled, allowing himself to thrust deeper into her. 

The strength of her release took both of them by surprise. He’d wanted to prolong it, let them both savor it, give her the chance to appreciate what he could do for her. But that clench of tight hot flesh around him was too much, pulling him towards his own release. 

Yet he managed to remember what she’d said the night before, about the pain not just of relations but also of childbearing. At the last moment, he withdrew and spent himself across her stomach. When he regained enough of his senses to look down at his beautiful wife, she was looking down at his limp member and the sticky mess on her with confusion.

He leaned forward and kissed her softly. “You said last night that childbearing was painful too. I don’t want anything to hurt you, so we can do our best to avoid that for a while. This,” he gestured between them, “is one way to prevent that.”

“There are ways to prevent it?” She still seemed puzzled, as if such an option had never occurred to her.

“There are indeed my darling Scarlett. While we’re enjoying our time in New Orleans we can explore them, if you’re interested.” He rolled off to one side, pulling her along to face him.

“I am. I don’t know if...I’ve never had a choice.”

“I know, honey. You have choices now. You don’t have to bear children, you don’t have to work.” 

“But I like working, Rhett! It’s mine.”

“We’re married now, you’ve got rights to my considerable fortunes now, you greedy girl. You don’t need the paltry incomes from the store and mills.” He would give her anything in the world, if only she asked him for it.

Wide green eyes sparkled with concern as she looked frankly at him. “But things are always being taken away from me, things always get inherited by others. Pitty’s house is really Wade’s, Tara is portioned between myself and my sisters...if anything happens, I want something that’s just mine. Just in case.”

He studied her guileless face, swung too swiftly from satiation to worry. “Then you are free to work as much as you’d like.”

“Oh, Rhett, truly?”

“Truly.” He kissed her, awash in her delight. Could it really be so easy to please her?

“Thank you.” For the first time, she initiated a kiss, even tentatively darting her tongue out to touch his lips, seeming shocked when he responded in kind and deepened the kiss.

Her eyes were closed when he pulled away, and he took the opportunity to gaze unguardedly at her. Then she blinked at him, and tilted her head to the side, looking at him curiously. “What?”

It was easier to kiss her than answer, so that’s what he did. Then managed to whisper, “I don’t want you to worry about any of that this month, though. It’s our honeymoon, you should do nothing but enjoy yourself.” He kissed her again, in the lips this time, enjoying the lazy loose arm she’d slung around him. “Shall I call for a bath? I think we both could use one.”

“Breakfast too?”

“Breakfast too, my darling. Anything you desire.”

She closed her eyes and nestled back into the pillows as he moved out of the bed. But very clearly he heard her mutter “bacon,” leaving him laughing as he searched for his robe.


	3. Scarlett

The trip down to New Orleans was leisurely and comfortable. It had been since before the war that she’d felt so comfortable and pampered, and the hotel they were staying at was nothing short of every opulent dream she’d imagined of a fine hotel, with red damask and cut glass and dark wood. The bed was plush and the sheets were soft, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so well. 

But the dreams that had haunted her since her time at Tara during the war didn’t entirely leave her. On the third night in the city, they had been out quite late, dancing until her shoes were nearly worn through and enjoying several bottles of champagne. Her head had been spinning faster than she’d whirled around the dance floor, and for the first night since their wedding, Rhett hadn’t had any kind of relations with her. He’d merely helped her into their rooms, arm around her waist nearly carrying her inside, and disrobed her more carefully than he’d done any night prior. Then he’d tucked her into a soft lawn nightdress, took down her hair, and tucked her into bed. She’d been asleep before he’d even finished pulling the covers over her.

But her intoxicated mind didn’t keep her somewhere warm and safe. Instead, she found herself lost in the same dim, foggy twilight that had overcome her since her days at Tara after they’d fled Atlanta. She was once again searching, sure there was something out there she was supposed to find, more certain than ever that there was safety and security somewhere, if only the fog would clear and let her find it. Futilely, she cried out, in frustration and fear, and tried to run. Whatever it was she was seeking, she was unable to find, and fell, tangled in something, and so very cold and alone.

When she roughly returned to wakefulness, weeping and thrashing against containment, it took her a moment to realize that it was him restraining her, arms holding her close against him, voice crooning softly in her ear.

“Shh, darling, you’re safe, I’ve got you. Shh.”

Scarlett took a deep gasping breath, coming fully back to consciousness, and his hold around his shoulders and waist relaxed, but his arms didn’t leave her. They merely began stroking gently across the fabric of her nightdress, warm and soothing even through the thin material. He was reluctant to release her when she tried to move, but she merely turned in his arms and buried her tear-streaked face in his chest. She was so distraught it took her a moment to realize that it was his bare chest she was crying against.

He did not seem to mind; one of his hands tangled in her hair, caressing her scalp, and would have been more than able to remove her messy face from his person. Yet he seemed quite content to keep her tucked against him, if the other arm, snug again at her waist, hand spanning nearly her entire back, was any indication.

“Are you all right honey?” 

Even as her tears and shivering belied the gesture, she nodded against his chest, trying to move as close to his warmth as possible. 

He didn’t answer her, but his comforting hand left her head, and he twisted away from her. That was enough to cause her tears to start again in earnest, and send her clutching for him. 

“I’m not going anywhere, you’re safe. I’m just getting the quilt that got kicked away. You’re freezing.” 

His lips were warm on her forehead and as soon as the quilt was tucked around both of them his hands were back on her, radiating heat. It felt so good on her chilled flesh, and she snuggled closer to him, trembling arms clasping him close. He warmed her as she wrapped herself around him, and her breathing fell into alignment with his steady breaths. The low whisper of quiet nothings continued as did the slow stroke of his hands over her back and sides and arms, soothing her.

Eventually her breathing ceased it’s hitching and her tears stopped flowing. Her embrace became a hug rather than a drowning woman clinging to a life preserver. At that point, his hands moved up to tangle in her disheveled hair, his thumb brushing across her still-damp cheek.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” His voice was still that soothing whispered drawl, and though she really didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want him seeing her upset like this, she found herself nodding against his chest.

“It’s cold...and dark and...foggy,” she began in a halting whisper. “I can’t see where I’m going, or where I am, and I’m running, looking for something. But I’m so lost and hungry and tired.” 

“What are you looking for?” His lips were against her temple, and his hands were so soothing combing through her hair.

After thinking quietly for a moment, she mumbled, “I...I don’t...don’t know.”

“No, you probably wouldn’t.” 

His arms were so warm and strong. She could feel herself melting into him, almost ready to doze off again. It felt so safe here with him. Her lips found his neck, and began kissing softly down it, tracing his collar bone with the tips of her fingers. It was the first time she’s done more than kiss him on the cheek without him initiating things, but it felt nice. He must think so too, because she could feel his hum of pleasure under her lips, and smiled. Every night, he’s made her feel good, so she thought perhaps she could do something to show how much she appreciated it.

Her lips found their way up to his jaw, just lightly roughened now with stubble. He was very still under her kisses, and she could only hope she’s doing this right--he wasn’t pushing her away, not urging her back down to sleep. The hand in her hair still rested softly on the back of her head, and the hand on her back was still supporting her, warm and familiar.

When her lips finally found his, though, he responded, deepening her soft kiss almost immediately, his tongue teasing her lower lip and his fingers tightening on her scalp, pulling her closer. She let him, shifting in his lap so that her head was even with his, tilting into his kiss. Tentatively, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders, holding him close. He felt so comforting and safe.

She broke away eventually, trying to breathe deeply and resting her forehead against the racing pulse of his throat. It was surprising, somehow, feeling him as effected as she felt herself. With a blink, she lifted her head and looked at him, meeting dark, concerned eyes, though they were tinged with something else, something she’d been coming to recognize over their time together. She sat up a little straighter in his lap, she kissed him again, slowly deepening it, feeling his tongue dancing with hers, his warm hands in her hair and on her back, drawing her closer but never forcing. He’d been insistent with her but never forceful, had pushed her boundaries but never frightened her. And now, when she was frightened, he’d been here, warm and safe and soothing.

As she deepened the kiss and felt herself melting against him, she was suddenly aware of all of his naked form, firm chest under her and against her thigh something else firm. Her hand slid down from his shoulders, where she’d begun to feel comfortable touching him, to his chest, where they’d only faintly strayed before. She felt the hitch of his muscles along with the sharp intake of breath, and met his eyes. There was a question there, and desire, and something more, something she still did not quite understand but  _ felt _ , jolting through her body with every stroke of his fingers down her spine. 

“Scarlett,” her name passed his lips in a breathy whisper before she kissed him again, pressing herself closer, trapping her hands against his chest between them. Her fingers dug lightly into muscle as he pulled her closer, and she could feel his hardening manhood trapped between them too. Almost involuntarily her hips shifted against it, and she wasn’t sure whether she was trying to move away from it or closer to it.

His hands trailed down her sides as they kissed, coming to rest on her questing hips, pulling her tight against him with a groan.

“Rhett.” His name was barely a whisper, as she tries to catch her breath and find an equilibrium in her suddenly dizzying whirl of sensations and feelings. She wanted his comfort, wanted his arms around her like this, holding her close, wanted everything her could offer her. She pressed closer still, arms slipping out to surround him, holding him as tightly as he held her.

With a groan, he thurst against her, and she was not surprised when his hands drifted down from her hips to the hem of her thin nightdress, pushing it up her thighs, swirling across them, setting her skin alight everywhere he touched. 

He shifted away only far enough to pull the material off of her, then those big warm hands were back on her, adjusting both their positioning until her was sitting back against the headboard and she was straddling his lap, most inelegantly. It felt exposed, indecent, and her hands fell away from him briefly to cover herself as the reality of her position set in. Dropping her eyes, she could see all of him bare before her, manhood on full display, straining towards her, still a bit frightening. 

“Scarlett,” he breathed into her ear, before his lips trailed down her throat until she gasped. “You’re beautiful. Let me watch you take your pleasure.”

“Oh,” she moaned, unable to think clearly as his fingers traced up her thighs once more. Then his words caught up with her, and she blinked. “What?”

One finger found its way unerringly to that spot between her legs, jolting her with awareness and arousal. “You enjoy this.”

She could only close her eyes and nod.

“Like this.” His finger left her, and she felt momentarily bereft, until he began to guide his manhood between her legs, grazing that bundle of sensation, through that heavy embarrassing slickness, and teased its way just inside. Then he touched her hip firmly, pulling her down towards him, down  _ onto _ him. 

Her eyes opened wide in shock, and she made a noise she couldn’t begin to identify—somewhere between a gasp and a moan. It had been unexpected but not unwelcome, and though this positioning was strange, it felt good. Experimentally, she shifted her hips towards him, moving him deeper into her, and watched his eyes flutter closed, some overwhelming emotion playing across his face. 

“Yes.” His voice was almost a whimper. “Just like that my darling.”

She shifted her hips again, away and then back down, just a fractional undulation, but she could feel him deep inside her, hitting some delicious spot that drew a gasp from her. When she repeated the movement, with just a bit more force, a moan echoed from both of them. On the third repetition, his hands were on her hips, helping pull her back down as he thrust up. 

“Rhett!” Something was sparking through her, brighter and hotter than when he’d been the one driving her to the edge. She writhed in his lap, feeling the change in angles, in the feel of him enormous inside her, until the need to find that spark again drove her to lift and lower herself again, more assured, more firm.

“Yes! Oh, Scarlett.” His voice was on the periphery of her awareness, but his hands, helping her, stroking her, seared across her flesh. One remained on her hip, fingers squeezing into her bottom in time with her movements, the other skimmed over her body, teasing that spot between her legs, the swoop of her collarbone, the peak of her breast.

It slid onto her back, urging her just a bit more forward, allowing his lips to find her nipple, changing the angle of her movements again. The combination of sensations was heady, thrilling; part of her wanted to slow it down, make it last, but a more primal part of her strove for it, drove her to move faster against him.

He was breathing hard as well, eyes closed and seemingly focused fully on helping her to that imminent explosion. His hand found its way between them again, making sure she was stroked between her legs with each rock against him, and when his teeth grazed her nipple just so, at the same moment she slammed down onto him, she shattered.

When she returned to awareness, she was laying against his chest. His arms were around her once more, and there was only stickiness and his softening manhood between them. She shifted a bit, and tucked her head into the crook of his neck, ignoring the mess--it was, after all, a sign he’d respected her wishes about no children, so it would hardly do to complain. There was, in this moment, nothing for her to complain about.

That realization drew a sharp breath from her, and Rhett’s hands stilled where they’d been stroking her back.

“What’s wrong, Scarlett?” He wrapped her name around her like a warm blanket.

“Nothing, Rhett,” she drawled, and kissed the bit of his shoulder right under her. “For the first time that I can remember, there’s absolutely nothing wrong.”

The slow, soothing stroking of her back resumed, and she could feel him hum a bit. “I’m happy to hear that, darling.”

“Are you, Rhett? Happy, I mean? With me?” Had he not been touching her so wonderfully, she might never have dared ask.

“I am.” He kissed the top of her head, twice, lips lingering the second time, as one of his hands drifted up to tangle in her hair.

“I love you,” she whispered into the safety of his neck, and for perhaps the first time in her life, she knew she meant it.

His arms froze around her, and for a few heartbeats, neither of them breathed.


	4. Rhett

The one thing, the only thing, he had wished to hear from her for years, and she’d whispered it post-coitally, so quietly he might have missed the words. He had to force himself to breathe, to relax the clenching embrace he’d surrounded her with. She’d only just quietly confessed her love, it would do no good to smother her now. The hand that hand been toying with her hair tilted her head back, just far enough that she had to look at him.

Her face was ridiculously easy to read--the woman, for all her flirtations, had no guile at all. And he could see that she was nervous and vulnerable, but still met his eye. Rather than answer her words with his own, though, he answered her with a kiss, sweet and deep, tongues tangling until they were both breathless. 

“My darling Scarlett.” He pulled her closer, their chests rising and falling against one another, her breasts teasing against him, his arousal already building again as if he were a boy of sixteen and not a man of forty. 

She loved him. 

The thought overwhelmed him, left him nearly delirious with want and love of his own, but still without the courage to venture those words to her. So he pressed kisses into her hair, stroked his hands down her smooth back, over the delicious curve of her ass, back up the swoop of her waist, until he crushed her to him again, lips colliding, feeling the barest control he’d been managing to maintain this past week slipping.

“Rhett,” she mumbled, before managing to catch his lips with her own again, still so tentative. Yet she’d been brave enough to share her feelings with him, share her fears. Capturing her lips with his own, he drowned his impulse to respond, to respond in kind. He wanted to let his body tell hers, though he knew she still didn’t understand, though he knew he’d have to find words even if he was beyond them now, half out of his mind with elation and desire.

Eventually, though, they had to breathe, and broke apart, panting against each other, his chest heaving. Scarlett showed to intention of leaving his embrace, merely dropped her forehead against his shoulder, breasts pressed against him, so soft. He owed her something, had to find words for her.

“Scarlett,” he began, then his courage faltered once more. He kissed her temple, then changed his approach. “Do you?”

“Hmm?” She sounded drunk, eyes half-closed.

He studied her for a heartbeat, taking a deep breath and trying to gather his wits and his courage. “You said you loved me.”

“Oh,” was all she answered, studying him in return. “I did. I do.”

So matter-of-factly she said it! “Say it again.”

She smiled, a sweet, indulgent smile. “I love you.”

“You say it so easily. As if you have no doubts.” He couldn’t believe she was so certain; he knew that a week ago, she thought herself madly in love with someone else’s husband.

“No one else has ever made me feel this way.” She looked straight at him as she spoke, cheeks flushing, pink spreading down to her chest, but meeting his eyes.

“Not even your dear Mr. Wilkes? I certainly recall how emphatically you proclaimed your sentiments towards him.” He wanted to believe her, believe in her change of heart, wanted her affection, her love, her. But he was more cowardly than she.

A tilt of her head connected her lips with his, just a quick sparking brush. “I’ve kissed him, and it’s never felt like this. I asked for his help, before, back at Tara, before I came to see you. I wanted him to run away with me. He wouldn’t. But you would’ve, wouldn’t you?”

“I would have.” He returned her kiss lightly, brief but thrilling. “Perhaps if you’d made me that enticing offer, I’d have orchestrated a jailbreak.”

“You’d leave everything behind for me?”

“You were the only thing in Atlanta that mattered.” His hands stroked her back, curving over her ass again, pulling her closer to his growing arousal.

“Oh,” she whispered, as she was pressed against his already ready cock. After a second of hesitation, she rolled her hips against him as she’d so recently learned, drawing a sharp inhalation from him. “You love me too.”

“I love you too.” It slipped out before he could stop it, before he even realized what he was saying. He silenced himself by kissing her, by distracting both of them with the feel of his hardness between her wet, sticky thighs. Both of them rolled their hips, and it took almost no effort for him to slip inside her again.

It felt like coming home. They were both tired from the previous encounter, but heady from their emotional revelations. Rather than merely seeking pleasure, this felt different to him, different than any previous sexual experience he’d had. This time, they merely rocked slowly together, truly joining.

Scarlett’s eyes were wide, as if she were almost uncomprehending. Rhett brought one hand up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing her face, before pulling her in to kiss. The kiss, too, was slow and deep, unhurried.

When they separated just far enough to draw breath, before he could capture her lips again, she leaned back, driving herself down onto him, drawing a moan from both of them.

Then she asked, “We don’t have to go back?”

He rested his hands on her hips, stilling them, staring at her. “Do you not want to return to Atlanta?”

“No,” she said, closing her eyes and giving a subtle shake of her head. “I’m so weary of Atlanta. But we have property and businesses--”

“That’s what lawyers are for, my dear.” He reached up to lift her chin, and kissed her once, gently. “What about your children? And Tara?” It felt like an odd conversation, in the midst of lovemaking, yet one intimately entwined with their newly declared love.

She shrugged, and wrapped her arms around him, tucking her face in to the crook of his neck, breath slow and warm against his skin. “I want to keep Tara. I want all of Tara. But...the children...Can they go wherever it is you go when you’re not in Atlanta? Can we all go there? Together?”

Her nervous enthusiasm was more endearing than he’d have thought possible, all the more so for being wholly unexpected. “Would you like to get away from everything you’ve known here? At least for a while?”

“More than anything.” Her lips pressed into his neck, a barely moving series of kisses. Her whole body embraced him, the feel of her arms nothing to the tightening of her heat around his cock.

He couldn’t help but thrust up into her then, a growl escaping his lips and echoed by a gasp from her, as his pubic bone ground into her clit. He did it again, then managed to ask, “London?”

Scarlett enthusiastically returned his thrusts, grinding down onto him with a little twist of her hips that left them both panting. But she paused after a moment to answer, “Yes.”

“I’ll wire my lawyer in the morning.” His lips traced her racing pulse. “After our honeymoon,” he whispered, in counterpoint to the roll of his hips against her, “we can stop just long enough to collect the children and make arrangements.”

“Yes, yes,” she gasped in agreement, frantically rocking against him.

He nipped her earlobe just as he found her clit, rolling a knuckle into it the way he’d found her so fond of. In two more rolls of her hips, she was clenching around him. In the back of his brain, he knew he should pull out, should do what he could do to prevent the children she seemed to frightened of having, but the more primal part of his brain had taken over. He couldn’t help himself, and in two quick jerks of his hips he was coming as well, unable to restrain himself.

Falling back, his arms surrounded her and brought her along with him, limbs tangling and chests heaving against one another. Scarlett’s forehead rested against his shoulder, and she nuzzled into his neck as she fell back asleep. He just managed to pull the coverlet back up over them before he fell asleep as well, more content than he could have ever imagined being.

When the sun was shining brightly through the windows, he awoke again, with his wife still tangled around him. Lips brushing the top of her head, still tucked against his shoulder, she was dead to the world. Only when he began running his hand up and down her back did she stir, bleary eyes squinting at him before snuggling closer again. 

But she kissed his neck, slow sloppy kisses trailing up to his ear. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” His heart was suddenly in his throat, worried she was regretting her confession last night, was disbelieving his own profession.

“London.”

“If you truly wish it. I can wire my lawyers later this morning.”

Her answering hum thrummed through his body, reassuring him down to his bones, nearly arousing him. “I don’t want to see those old cats ever again.”

“Your wish is my command, my love.”

“I like--no, I love that,” she responded with a grin, kissing his cheek. “But after breakfast. I’m famished.”

He tilted his head to capture her lips with his, before pulling back the sheets and rolling away from her. “Then let me go order for us, and we shall begin planning our new lives over coffee, like civilized folk.”

Scarlett’s answering smile, bright and contented as she sprawled in their bed looking thoroughly well-loved, was all the answer he needed. And all the future he needed.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, everyone, for your support and enthusiasm for my first GWTW fic in many, many years. I'm not sure if I'll be back with more, but I've enjoyed coming back to Scarlett and Rhett for a little while, at least.


End file.
